


Degausser

by wonderless (catbrains)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Hux Backstory, Kylo Ren Has Issues, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Abuse, Past Underage, but believe he's likely dead by now, han and leia are desperately searching for ben, he has no memories of his past and no idea who he is, hux is surprisingly kind of nice, hux is twenty-five, kind of similar to the movie but kylo was kidnapped and forced into slavery, kylo is nineteen, slavery is pretty normal but its still kind of rare to own one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-06-05 22:14:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6725584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catbrains/pseuds/wonderless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the age of nine, Ben Solo was kidnapped from his home during an extended absence of his parents.  He was stripped of his name and everything he held dear and forced into slavery.<br/>Ten years later, Armitage Hux receives a gift after his promotion to General of the First Order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the storm is coming in

His future had been set in stone the moment he was born.  

It had been a home birth, of course, and he had entered the world in the midst of the Hux Manor before being handed briskly to his father and announced ‘Armitage Hux’.  From that moment onwards, he was set to be the man’s carbon copy.  He would adopt every mannerism, every value, and every credit his father possessed.  Pity he had his mother’s face, but it was no matter.  He was going to rise until the galaxy existed under his heel and - more importantly - his father’s name.  They had come this far, and he would not be permitted to let it slip from the family’s fingers come something so menial as death.  The galaxy was _theirs_.  And one day, he thought privately to himself, it would be solely his.

 He was raised with the best tutors, the best books, and the best technology, though there was little to no legitimate parenting.  His mother died a pitiful death soon after his fifth birthday, and his father was scarcely seen, but neither fact bothered him.  Children did not form attachments easily, so his mother was an easy loss.  And, as for his father, is was impossible to miss something that was never there.  He was raised by the droids that existed in the house, save for a single nanny droid that seemed to follow him wherever he went.  It took him only eight years to learn how and where to hide from that wretched thing, and soon enough they were moving far away after the fall of the Empire.  And from then on he raised himself.  

 By the age of ten, he was a genius.  People discussed the odd Hux boy in hushed tones of wonder and terror.  Those who supported his father were delighted by his promise, glad that the galaxy that he had created would not crumble alongside him as he aged more with each passing day.  However, those who did not support his father (who he had been taught to think of as mindless, lesser beings) were horrified.  The powerful dictator whom they had believed to be long gone now had a promising son, and there was no chance of escape for any of them.  Unless, of course, the boy was assassinated.  But Hux knew that he was far too intelligent to fall for any cheap trick that would result in his death.  He would not fall victim to any jealous lesser being, any moronic Republic martyr.  He was going to be exactly what his father wanted him to be.  And when the bastard died, he was going to _rule_.

 He had entered into the First Order the moment he was of age to.  He would have attempted even before, but was not foolish enough to attempt to avoid anyone’s gaze with his fiery red hair and bright green eyes.  He stuck out like a sore thumb, and that had to be played to an advantage.  It was easy to climb through the ranks of the Order, and especially satisfying with everyone staring at you in bitter jealousy, and he had become a high-ranking officer by his twentieth birthday.  His father displayed no pride, but he knew better.  Serving under Supreme Leader Snoke, he was powerful.  And come the day when he would overthrow him (and this was another thought kept buried behind his walls), he would be unstoppable.

 And _now_ , at the meager age of twenty-five, Hux had reached the day he would finally be promoted to General.  He was the youngest the Order had ever seen by far, and there was much speculation as to how exactly he had climbed the ranks so quickly.  None of it was true.  He had pulled himself from the bottom (or, rather, as close to the bottom as he could have been as the heir of Brendol Hux) of his own strength and willpower, and he was finally reaping the rewards of his struggle.  It would not be the final journey he took; in fact, he was far from it.  But he was one step closer.  One step closer to reaching his destiny of Emperor.  One step closer to finally claiming all that was his.

 His promotion was not to be a large ceremony - _that_ was saved for the Emperor - but there would be a small gathering of the highest-ranking officers as he was presented with his new uniform and officially given the title.  He pretended he was not one for theatrics, but could not deny that he took great delight in any and all public appreciation of his successes.

“I don’t think you appreciate yourself quite enough, Sir,” commented a Stormtrooper Captain, somewhat out of turn.  She was an impressive woman, quite young herself, but it was hard to think of anyone as anything more than a soldier when Hux had only ever seen her in full armour.  She had not even removed it for the occasion, and walked beside him towards the bridge covered completely in shimmering chrome.  At least she had put her blaster down.

“I appreciate myself as it is due,” Hux replied, one hand adjusting the cuff of the jacket he would not be wearing for much longer.  He wondered if they would take it from him, or if he would be permitted to keep it.  If not anything else, it was rather comfortable.

“You are the youngest General the Order has ever seen.  Not to mention the design and construction of _Starkiller_.  This is quite a feat, sir, and one I am sure will not soon be forgotten.”

Hux certainly hoped no one would have a chance to be forgetting him anytime soon.  Especially not with his proudest creation half-built under his feet.

“I will attempt to keep it from getting to my head.”

The Stormtrooper Captain chuckled politely at what could barely be considered an attempt at humour.

 They turned the corner and came to the entrance to the bridge.  The officers were lined up in parade stance around each side, and at the far end stood the Admiral staring down at him.  Hux steeled his gaze and walked proudly across to her, shoulders stiff and boots clicking against the floor in the heavy silence of the room.  

“Armitage Hux,” the Admiral announced, and Hux tried to suppress a sneer at the way she spat out his name .  His lips curled, and he stepped forward once more.

“As recognition,” she continued, “Of your devotion to the Order and the work you have provided us with, you are hereby promoted to General of the First Order.”

The officers stood surrounding him began to applaud, some as a matter of necessity and some out of genuine passion for his promise.  The Admiral stepped back and picked up what seemed to be a black suit box, before turning and presenting it to him.  He took it from her outstretched hands, before turning briskly on his heel and leaving the bridge.  He would prefer to give a speech once in full uniform.  They could wait.

 

 The walk to his quarters was short.  His lay in a secluded area of the high-ranking officers’ dorm area, far enough away to provide him with silence and privacy for once in his life, and he reached them without bumping into too many people who wished to congratulate him.  He had to refrain himself for being cruel and pulling rank on those who did.  The door to his quarter beeped in affirmation once he entered the code to get inside, before hissing open for just long enough for him to step inside.  Immediately, he was plunged into what felt like a different world.

 He placed the box on his desk and set about undressing, removing his belt and jacket and folding them before placing them beside the closed box.  Those were the only two things that needed replacing immediately - the other new items could wait until tomorrow.  He pulled the crisp new jacket from the box and pulled it on, pleasantly surprised to find that they had fit it perfectly to his measurements.  The bands across his wrist were not starkly different from those on his last jacket, but the weight behind the white lines made a slow smirk of satisfaction sink onto his face.  He had done it.  It was real.  He pulled the new belt from the box, too, and fastened it with little difficulty.  It was stiff, but he enjoyed it, and the buckle was polished nearly as perfectly as his former one.  He could certainly settle into the new uniform rather quickly; he already felt quite at home in it.  

 Hux picked up the items of clothing he had removed and hung them back up in his wardrobe, before turning to retrieve the box and placing it neatly in the bottom.  Pulling the door closed, he let out a breath and made to return to wherever needed him next, but was interrupted by his comm.  A message from Supreme Leader Snoke, apparently.  Congratulating him, perhaps? He pressed the button to view the message, and a hologram of the Supreme Leader appeared before him.

“General Hux,” it greeted him, “Please make your way to the audience chamber at the earliest convenience.  I wish to personally reward your efforts.”

Ah.  That was interesting.  Hux had never before had a personal audience with the Supreme Leader, let alone one that involved something so apparently significant as Snoke ‘personally rewarding’ him.  Quickly opening the map on his datapad, just to double-check, Hux turned and made his way from his quarter to the audience chamber.

 The audience chamber, as it turned out, was across the base from Hux’s quarters, which was likely something he should have known from memory seeing as he was the one who decided its location.  But no matter.  He reached the doors and stood back as they hissed open for him, allowing him to make his way somewhat warily across the great room to the pedestal before the throne.  He stood upon it in formal stance, waiting for the Supreme Leader to appear in whatever manner he saw fit.

 That manner seemed to be, again, a hologram.  It appeared so subtly that, for a moment, he did not even notice it.  It felt as if in one moment there was nothing and in the next the Supreme Leader himself was projected in exaggerated size before him.

“General Hux,” the Supreme Leader greeted, voice echoing throughout the hall.  

“Supreme Leader,” Hux greeted back, and could not ignore how pathetically human his own voice sounded.  

“I wish to congratulate you on your promotion.  You have been a great source of pride for the Order ever since you enrolled, and to see you rise in power is a great thing indeed.  Your _Starkiller_ project is likely to be our greatest achievement yet.”

Hux bowed his head respectfully and tried not to inflate too noticeably at the validation.

“Thank you, Supreme Leader.”

“And so, I have left you a gift in your quarters.  I trust you don’t mind me having someone drop in to leave it there?”

Hux blanched at the thought of _anyone_ entering his quarters without his knowledge, but swallowed it down.  The Supreme Leader was showing him personal gratitude to the point where he was giving him a _gift_.  Personal values were not important, this was the truest sign of his success.

“I am extremely grateful, Supreme Leader.”

Snoke nodded, before gesturing to the door.  “You are excused, General.  I trust you can’t wait to see what it is.”

Hux nodded his polite affirmation and was halfway to the door when Snoke called after him.

“I also trust that your presence will not be necessary across the base this afternoon.  So you may spend it with your newest possession.”

 Hux exited the audience chamber before he dared wonder what exactly that last statement meant.  Briskly, he began making his way through the halls to his quarters, mind racing with what exactly could possibly be waiting for him.

His door beeped once again after he entered his code, and he entered the room to see what had been left.

  
In the centre of the room, at the foot of the bed, there was a small metal cage.  And, unconscious and naked inside that cage, there was a boy.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments and kudos to let me know if you enjoyed this chapter, or like this AU/what you like about it!  
> I was a little nervous about this AU, but I figured slave!Kylo was an interesting concept to explore - especially not in the general way of 'he was briefly taken during a mission' that I've seen a bit of. So hopefully you guys will stick around to see where I'm planning on taking this story!  
> Thank you for reading!


	2. the night's hard to get through

Leia Organa-Solo’s life ended the day she lost her son.  It seemed so melodramatic to think, and when she was a young, fickle girl of nineteen she would have never thought herself to be one of those _foolish_ women who devoted themselves so mindlessly to their husbands and children, but back then she hadn’t understood.  Had never understood, until she was holding a tiny, tiny, brand new life form - untainted by the horrors of the galaxy - in her arms as it shrieked and sobbed and Han was smiling at her so _radiantly_.   Only then did she understand that her life was now her son’s.

 Somehow, miraculously, things had kept that joyous lens as time crawled on.  The war was over and her parents were long dead (both the ones who had brought her into the world and the ones who had guided her through it) but she suddenly had something to hold on to.  Ben was the most beautiful baby she had ever seen, though perhaps she may have been biased.  He was born with nearly a headful of dark, curling hair that she attributed to someone earlier in the Skywalker line (her grandmother, perhaps?) and her own wide, curious eyes.  His nose was Han’s (as well as his attitude), and his smile felt like everything good in the galaxy.  Everything sweet and Light and pure.

 

She would do terrible, terrible things to only see that smile once more.

 

As Ben grew up, things got less easy.  He began to question Leia and Han as they left for meetings and missions, and they could only respond with somewhat wilted apologies or rushed forehead kisses.  Through the Force Bond with Ben, Leia felt him withdraw into himself.  He felt abandoned by them and, horrifyingly, believed in his fragile, childish mind that perhaps his parents no longer loved him.  He often heard them discussing him in hushed tones, worrying about his possible sensitivity to the Force and even the distant influence of his late grandfather.  He was too young to understand, and so bore the burden himself.

 It became obvious, even from a young age, that Ben held the Force in the same high concentration that his grandfather had - perhaps even higher.  Leia was conflicted between her elation and terror.  Force-sensitives were as rare as they came, and Luke was the only properly-trained one she knew; they had brief discussions about it, Luke telling her about his plans to begin a new Jedi Academy, but she came to the conclusion that they would cross that bridge when they came to it.  Until then, Ben would be introduced to the Force slowly by her.

 They had an immediate Bond, as Force-sensitive parents and their children always did and she often sent him specific thoughts and emotions to introduce him to it.  Never anything particular or powerful, just comfort or joy or telling him how much she loved him.  He, of course, could not respond, but without any barriers he projected his responses anyway.  As he grew older, it became something of a necessity.  If he was in trouble, he would unwittingly project his distress and she would come running - sending him comfort and love in the meantime.  

 It was the only reason she had even known something was wrong that day.  Both she and Han had left on separate journeys, leaving Ben under the care of Luke.  It was not the first time they had left him ‘alone’ as such, and so neither of them thought much of it.  They would be gone for a few days, then return and spoil him to make up for it.  It would have been late at night on D’Qar when she felt it.  Felt distress being projected by Ben, but not the brief panic and pain when he fell or the shame when he was scolded.  Felt a burst of pure _terror_ , the likes of which a child should never feel.  There was panic, then there was pain, and then suddenly there was nothing.  

 She had demanded they return to D’Qar immediately, and the ship docked sometime just before dawn.  She sprinted back to her home, and found the door open.  Dread settled in her stomach like a stone.  Nothing was out of place.  Nothing was broken.  Ben was gone.  His bedroom was exactly as she imagined he had left it, toys strewn across the floor and the bedclothes crumpled and slept-in.  She almost hoped that there would be blood on the sheets, just as some sort of _clarity_ , but there was nothing.  Her son had disappeared without a trace and she was losing her family once again.

 Han had returned later in the day, wide-eyed and trembling, and she did not know what to do.  He fell into her sobbing and she held him emptily, stood in their son’s achingly empty bedroom.  Luke appeared at some point, words jumbled and desperate as apologies and exclamations fell from his lips.  He proclaimed that he was the one at fault, and, truly, Leia had initially liked to believe that he was, and before either of them knew it he was leaving without a word.  Flying to somewhere far away.  Perhaps it was finally all catching up to him, all the guilt and the failure, and he had only been waiting for one final excuse to disappear and bathe himself in his regrets.  Leia sometimes dreamt of doing the same.

 The time immediately after Ben’s disappearance was the hardest.  A small, foolish part of her still believed that perhaps he had only wandered off.  He would come stumbling in from the forest with grazed knees and tears on his face and she would pick him up and kiss everything better.  She felt faint, distant bursts of grief and agony from somewhere across the galaxy and knew that the time for kisses had long passed.

 The Bond itself had not immediately disappeared, as it had on that first night.  She could still feel him, somewhere, and was occasionally overcome with pain that came in waves from far, far away.  She clung onto this pain, as terrible as it was, because it was all she had to assure herself that he was still alive, but as time crawled on it began to fade.  Ben’s presence wavered in her mind and, day by day, she felt him slip away.  Further and further, hardly noticeable, until one day she awoke in the dead of night and realized that he was gone.  That night, it was her turn to cry into Han’s chest as she sobbed and begged the Force to bring him back to her, to be fair just for one.  To not take him away from her, after all she had lost.

 The next morning, Han left early with Chewbacca for something he loosely described as a mission.  She knew he was lying.  He knew she knew he was lying.  He left and didn’t return.  Sometimes, when it got too difficult to bear, she was glad for the fact.  Sometimes, she deluded herself with phantom pains and cries from somewhere too far in the distance to place.  She told herself that it had been too long, that Ben was gone, and that the voice begging anyone - please, _please_ , anyone - for help in the back of her mind was her own psyche trying to make up for what she had lost.  

 But there was always a more (or less) rational part of herself that clung to the voice, clung to each breath of agony, and collected them like precious stones.  Collected them until they meant something, until the sounds were words and the feelings were real.  Ben was _alive_ , and Force help her she was going to find him.  With her own desperation clawing at the back of her mind, she fell asleep.

 

Halfway across the Galaxy, the boy in the cage awoke with a start.  

 

Hux flinched backwards at the sudden movement, afraid that the boy would lash out, but once he awoke fully he seemed to sober somewhat.  Hux remained stood staring at the bars that trapped him inside, staring at the pale skin pressed painfully into them due to the boy’s forced contortion in the tiny cage.  One made for an animal, truly.  Or, more accurately, for a _slave_.  The boy let out a quiet hiss of pain as he shifted as much as his forced contortion would allow, but kept his eyes trained on the floor.

“Sir,” he acknowledged, voice scratchy but kept forcefully even.  Being addressed as ‘sir’ was hardly anything new to Hux, but the way it was said sent a shiver of discomfort down his spine.

 He did not respond, and remained staring silently at the cage, before he suddenly realized that he had to be the one to open it.  The boy, admittedly, did not seem to be in any sort of rush, but he also seemed to be purposely displaying no emotions at all.  Hux stepped warily forwards and began fiddling with the lock.  It seemed to be hooked up to a fingerprint scanner, and with one brief press of his right index finger it slid open smoothly.  The boy made no motion to get out, and Hux hesitated.

“Are you..alright?” he asked, shoulders still tense as he stared down at the boy, who now clearly looked like he had barely left adolescence, “You _are_ permitted to get up.”  The boy kept his gaze trained on the floor, before responding in the same tone.  

“Yes, sir.”

He rose slowly, face twisting in pain as his aching limbs were forced into movement.  A deep-looking cut on his outer thigh was reopened in the motion and sent blood racing down his bruised leg.  Hux had not noticed the injury until that moment, and jolted at the violent colour contrasting sharply against the boy’s pale skin.

“You’re injured,” he pointed out, rather obviously.  The boy looked down.

“Sorry,” he said quietly, as if it was his fault.  Well, the wound didn’t _look_ self-inflicted.  Hux motioned for the boy to stay where he was and rushed to the ‘fresher to retrieve the standard-issue medikit.  The boy was bleeding at a somewhat alarming rate, and assuring that he would not die of blood loss certainly came before learning his identity on Hux’s priority list.  

 When he returned to the main room with the medikit and a wet washcloth, the boy was stood exactly as he had been when Hux had left him, seemingly unfazed by the blood slowly running the length of his leg to pool on the floor.  Hux gestured him quickly to sit on the bed, but was met with sudden hesitation.

“I’ll get blood on the sheets,” the boy stated, seemingly confused by the notion that his life could possibly be worth more than the cleanliness of a man’s bed sheets.  Hux shook his head, a sense of urgency settling in his mind, “I don’t mind.  I need to treat your wound.”

This seemed to perplex the boy further, but he did as he was told and settled gingerly on the edge of Hux’s bed, still unmade from his tossing and turning the former night.  Hux watched the blood soak into the black sheets and set about wringing out the washcloth, before slowly attempting to wash away the drying blood.  The boy flinched back at the first touch of the warm cloth, tensing visibly, but forced himself to relax before Hux could make any attempt to comfort him.  He seemed unused to gentle contact and continued to tremble as Hux slowly wiped the blood away, mindful of the bruises marring his skin.  

 When the skin was mostly clean, Hux set the cloth aside and retrieved a bacta salve from the medikit.  The boy immediately grimaced at the smell as Hux opened the tube, and he could not help but agree as the vile chemical smell pierced the air.  

“This may be painful,” Hux stated in lieu of an apology, before smearing the salve across the deep cut.  The boy cried out loudly, and Hux honestly hadn’t thought of the fact that perhaps he had never been exposed to bacta before.  In which case, the ordeal was sure to be quite agonising.  

“Are you alright?” he asked again once the noises of pain had ceased.  The boy’s eyes were watering, or perhaps he was crying, but he nodded his affirmation that he was alright.  Hux moved his hand from where he had unwittingly settled it on the boy’s calf in his distress and pulled a roll of bandages from the medikit, to ensure that the wound would not open again.  With a light tap of Hux’s fingers to indicate what he wanted, the boy was tentatively lifting his thigh from the bed.  The blood-soaked sheets clung to his skin and he looked guiltily down at them, but Hux merely pulled them away and set about wrapping the boy’s injured thigh.  Once it was suitably wrapped and the bandage was tied off, Hux sat back on his heels to momentarily admire his handiwork.  First aid was a skill he rarely got to practice, but his abilities at least had not rusted too substantially.  

 The boy shifted awkwardly where he was sat, staring down at his treated wound with a mildly distressed confusion.  Hux disregarded it.

“Who are you?” he asked, trying to keep his voice level.  It was perhaps less kind than asking the boy’s name, but courtesy seemed wasted in the current situation.  The boy glanced up at him.

“I belong to you, sir.  I am your property,” the boy said quietly, voice taking on the same unsettling emptiness as it had when he had first spoke, “You can call me whatever you wish.”

Hux shook his head in something akin to horrified astonishment.  His _property_?

“You are a person,” he stated instead, voice firm as if the sentence would be all it took to convince the boy, “You are not my property.”

The boy looked up at Hux through his long fringe, brows furrowed and eyes alight with confusion.  “Would you like me to...pretend?”

“ _No_ ,” Hux said, voice taking on an air of aggression before he could stop it.  The boy flinched and Hux sighed before trying again.

“What is your name?”

“You can--”

“ _No_ , I cannot.  You have a name, people call you something, what is it?”

The boy was silent for a long moment, before letting out a shaky breath.

“Kylo,” he said quietly, “They call me Kylo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It probably says something about me that I've had finals all this week yet this is possibly the quickest update you'll ever see from me. Oops.  
> Anyway, huge thank you to everyone who has left kudos and comments so far! I seriously wasn't expecting such a positive response and I'm so happy you guys are enjoying this (but please continue to validate me with comments lmao)  
> Thank you for reading!!


	3. they take all the taste out

Kylo.  Hux considered the name for a moment.  It wasn’t really a name at all, merely two syllables pushed together to create a sound with which one may beckon a dog, but for him to dispute it would surely be hypocritical.

“Kylo,” he echoed instead, as if trying the name out, and the boy before him tilted his head.  He was, of course, still sat timidly on the edge of the bed, and it was at that moment that Hux realized that he was unclothed.  Kylo, admittedly, seemed unbothered by this, but it would hopefully at least give him a sense of dignity to have some clothes.  Hux crossed the room and opened the wardrobe again, searching through it for any item of clothing that would be acceptable.  His clothes were mostly uniforms or standard issue First Order items like thermal shirts or uncomfortable pyjamas that he had thrown to the back of the wardrobe the moment he was able to get anything of better quality.

Eventually, he came across an old black shirt of moderately comfortable material.  It had no insignias on it, and Hux wondered absently where he had obtained it, before handing it to Kylo and searching for any trousers.  Of course, those were a lot harder to find.  The only ones he owned were his uniform trousers, and he was reasonable enough to assume that Kylo would rather remain nude than wear  _ them _ .  After a while of trawling through his drawers, Hux finally settled on a pair of his own underwear and handed them over unceremoniously.

“I apologize I have nothing of a higher standard,” Hux commented, but was somewhat confused to turn to see Kylo staring down at the items in wonderment, making no move to put them on.

“Well, go on, then,” Hux instructed, nodding towards the clothing, “They  _ are  _ yours.”

This seemed to perplex Kylo further, and he looked up in genuine confusion.

“But they’re yours,” he stated somewhat indignantly, though he hesitated somewhat before continuing, “And they’re expensive.”  

“They’re perhaps the most inexpensive things I own, I assure you.  It’s rather late for me to summon the tailor now, but I’ll set about getting you some proper clothes tomorrow.”

Kylo’s brows furrowed.  “What for?”

Hux looked at him in something akin to astonishment.  “Because you require clothes.  It’s...standard for people to wear clothes.”

Kylo shook his head, like he was explaining a very simple concept to a very simple person.  “Not people like me.”

 

Admittedly, Hux had forgotten the apparent reason for Kylo’s presence.  Of course, slavery had never been too foreign to him, growing up as he did.  Many of his father’s friends had had slaves, mostly older women to cook and clean, though he had heard whispered stories in the Academy about the officers and teachers who owned young boys and girls that they kept locked up in their quarters.  There were even more whispered horror stories about what exactly these slaves were used for.  Kylo was young, almost scarily so, and he had been naked, too.  All of a sudden those whispered stories didn’t seem so implausible.  What had they  _ done  _ to him? 

“Who brought you here?” Hux asked, watching as Kylo’s eyes darted up from staring at the floor to meet his own.

“My previous owners,” he replied, “They took me from the base and flew the ship out.”

“You were unconscious when I found you,” Hux pointed out, “And injured, too.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not asking you to apologize, I’m asking  _ why _ .”

“I didn’t want to come,” Kylo replied very quietly, as if such a confession would have him struck dead where he sat, “I tried to fight.  I should’ve known better than to be disobedient.  I won’t inconvenience you, sir, I swear.”

“You--” Hux began, but cut himself off.  He didn’t know what he would have said anyway.  Kylo’s gaze had fallen once again to the floor and he was shifting nervously on the bed, the clothes he had been given clutched tightly in his hands.

“Get dressed,” Hux said, but it was not an order.  He stood up and retrieved some pyjamas from his wardrobe, and reached the doorway to the refresher when Kylo called after him.

“But you haven’t even done anything to me yet.”

Hux paused, felt fury rise in his throat like bile, but swallowed it down and locked himself silently in the refresher.

 

He sighed deeply once he was alone, mind racing with all that had happened in only the previous hour.  Surely it was a dream, some absurd nightmare that had decided to plague him after another night alone with too much whiskey, but there was dried blood on the back of his hand that flaked once it was met with his blunt fingernail and confirmed that he was indeed awake.  

“Kriff,” he hissed, and pinched the bridge of his nose as if it would help.  He allowed himself only a moment, a second of refuge, before he began unfastening the jacket he had seemingly only just put on.  He removed his black dress shirt and replaced it with a loose grey tee shirt with the Order emblem on the sleeve likely intended for training, but their budget was focused on more important things than what the employees wore to bed.  He could, of course, buy his own pyjamas from somewhere off-planet, but his money was the Order’s and he had priorities.  Such as buying tailor-made clothes for slaves, apparently.  He sighed again, and pulled off his boots and trousers, before replacing them with a pair of black jogging bottoms - an item he would, admittedly, usually forgo.  It would perhaps have made more sense to give them to Kylo, but he only owned one pair and suspected that he would mind being scarcely clothed far more than the boy would.  He folded his discarded clothing and gathered the items in his arms, deciding against brushing his teeth in favour of perhaps getting some sleep.

When he emerged from the refresher, Kylo was again stood awkwardly in the centre of the room, but was at least clothed.  He was of a smaller build than Hux, likely due to the fact that he was not even fully grown, but it was still obvious that the clothes hung from his frame far more than they should.  

“When was the last time you ate?” Hux asked, brows furrowing.

“I don’t remember,” he replied, “They gave us nutrition bars whenever they could spare them.”

“I mean, when was the last time you had a proper meal?” Hux asked, and Kylo glanced up through his fringe.  His hair was untidy, as if it had been brushed through roughly and quickly with something crude, but it was clean and smelt like some sort of floral oil despite falling past his shoulders.  

“I haven’t,” Kylo responded in genuine confusion, as if he was surprised to be asked such a thing, “Food’s expensive.”

“Are you--” Hux exclaimed, in a highly undignified manner, “Are you  _ serious _ ?”

Kylo’s brows furrowed, and he withdrew in something akin to embarrassment, drawing his arms up to wrap them around himself awkwardly.  Hux shook his head and crossed the room to his commlink, placing the clothes down atop his dresser for the time being.  He picked it up and dialed for the cafeteria.  Food was served constantly due to the changing shifts, and the fact that day and night meant very little on the constantly-lit base.  Being a high-ranking officer also allowed Hux to order food to his quarters rather than walking all the way to the cafeteria, which was something he was glad to take advantage of.

“Please bring a small selection of food to my quarters at the earliest convenience,” Hux commanded once one of the chefs (or, more accurately, one of the less-able Troopers) picked up, not even giving them a chance to ask what he required.  Kylo looked up fully at his words, eyes widening in confusion, but Hux disregarded him.

“Do you have any preferences, uh, General?” the chef asked, barely stammering out the still unfamiliar title.  

“Whatever is available,” Hux replied, and hung up the moment the chef was halfway through the words ‘ _ yes, General _ ’.

 

The following ten minutes were spent in silence, Kylo remaining where he stood as Hux slowly and meticulously put his clothes away.  The door beeped suddenly to notify Hux of someone’s presence outside of it, and Kylo jolted in alarm.  Hux could not imagine what conditions the boy had been kept in before, and thus could not possibly understand how confusing the high-tech base was to him.  He moved past the boy to answer the door, and to a lesser extent show him that he was not in danger, and took the food from the waiting Trooper.  Said Trooper then nodded respectfully and began walking away before they could be trapped in the closing door.  Hux placed the covered platter on the desk beside his datapad and removed the lid, gesturing to Kylo to approach.  The boy did so tentatively, staring in confusion at the array of food before him.  Much of it was fruit and vegetables (a rare luxury in such a harsh environment), but there were several small portions of preservable soups and stews in heat-locking containers.  

“Go on, then,” Hux prompted, nodding towards the food, “It’s all for you.  Just don’t eat too fast; if you’re starved, you’ll be sick.”

It was likely the boy would be sick anyway after eating only sparse nutrition bars, but that was an issue that could be faced once it came to a head.  For the time being, it would be best to get him eating even if he wouldn’t be able to keep it down.  Kylo, however, made no move to eat anything; he merely stared at the food in bewilderment and something close to distrust.

“What is it?” he asked after a moment of hesitation, eyes narrowing at the colourful array of strange things he had never before seen anything like.  

“Fruit, mostly, but a few are cooked meals,” Hux explained, pointing out each item in turn, but Kylo looked no less perplexed.  “Have you never seen food before?”

It was meant to be a sarcastic statement, but the humour was taken from it when Kylo earnestly shook his head.  Hux felt an odd ache in his chest.  How was it possible for a person to not even know what  _ food  _ was?

“Come on,” he prompted again, taking a small plate and a fork from the platter.  He began placing a couple of slices of each fruit on the plate, deciding that they were probably a safer place to start than the cooked meals, and moved his datapad in order to place it down on the desk.  When Kylo remained motionless, he picked up a small chunk of something lilac that he knew was fairly weak in flavour and placed it into his mouth, as if to prove there would be no negative repercussions of eating it.  Hesitantly, Kylo reached out and took the other piece of the same fruit, holding it up and scrunching his face up as he inspected it.  He glanced at Hux, who nodded, and then placed the fruit in his mouth.  Immediately, his face changed.  He looked simultaneously horrified and as if he had found the answers to the galaxy.

“This is amazing!” he exclaimed, mouth full, and Hux was shocked to see him let down all of his barriers for a moment.  He looked, for a moment, like a child - albeit one far too happy to be anywhere near a First Order base.  Kylo suddenly seemed to find himself, however, and once again withdrew with his cheeks dusted pink in shame.  Hux turned his attention back to the plate.

“Which would you like to try next?”

Kylo shook his head.  Of course, it was idiotic of Hux to expect him to be able to make a decision when he had been taught to do nothing but follow orders, but it was at least a start to introducing him to normal life.

“How about this one?” Hux suggested instead, pointing to a large red berry.  This one, he knew, was somewhat sharper in flavour, but still served as a good stepping-stone to introduce Kylo to new flavours.  Kylo nodded, and they continued slowly eating each fruit in turn - Hux ensuring that Kylo would not end up throwing up - until the plate was empty.  Hux enjoyed watching Kylo’s reaction to each one; it was something so innocent that one usually experienced when they were too young to even comprehend it, so to watch someone nearing adulthood experience something so purely was strange.  Not to mention that Kylo was completely unable to school his facial expressions to such new experiences, so each reaction was displayed clearly in his smiles or grimaces (and then covered up with neutrality and embarrassment).  Hux took note of each fruit Kylo seemed to react positively to and which flavours he liked or disliked, trying to work out what foods he would be able to keep down.

 

Once the plate was empty, Hux stood and placed it back on the platter before replacing the lid and carrying the food to the small refrigerator in the kitchen alcove of his quarters.  The fridge itself was empty save for some alcohol, which wasn’t exactly a good impression, but he merely shifted the bottles aside and placed the platter on the shelf.   “Are you alright?” Hux asked, and Kylo looked up from where he had been staring at Hux’s datapad, “You’re not going to be sick?”

Kylo slowly shook his head, “I don’t think so.”

“Good, but it’s alright if you are - the refresher is over there,” he said, pointing to the ajar door, “Though I won’t be upset if you make a mess.  Just wake me.”

Kylo nodded, but Hux knew he had no intention of following that command.  Instead, he looked around the room and at the large bed with a somewhat nervous gaze.  “Where would you like me to sleep?”

“You can have the bed,” Hux replied, “I’ll take the sofa for now, but I could have the spare room made into a bedroom for you.”

The spare room was likely intended to be a study of some sort, but Hux had never gotten around to properly furnishing it.  His desk served him perfectly fine, and all private documents were locked inside of its drawers anyway, so there was no risk of security.  Kylo looked promptly horrified, then conflicted at the thought of disputing a command.

“I--I couldn’t.  I can sleep on the floor, if it pleases you, but I couldn’t take the bed.”

“It wouldn’t at all please me for you to sleep on the floor.  If you wish to please me, you’ll take the bed until I can get you one of your own.”  

Hux felt uncomfortable giving orders in such a context, but apparently it was necessary.  He was far too tired to argue.  Kylo hesitated, before letting out a quiet ‘yes, sir’ that made Hux’s heart clench in a way he’d never before felt.  

 

Hux pulled down a duvet and pillow from the top of his wardrobe and set them up on the sofa before walking across the room to lower the lights, glancing over to see Kylo shifting uncomfortably into the large bed.  It was likely overwhelming for a person that had never before even experienced  _ food _ .  

“Goodnight,” Hux said quietly once he had made himself comfortable in his makeshift bed.  

“Goodnight, sir,” Kylo whispered back.  Hux was asleep within ten minutes.

  
Kylo stared at the ceiling until dawn, wondering blankly when exactly Hux was going to crawl into bed beside him.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is literally 2.5k+ words about two men getting dressed and eating fruit. I amaze even myself.   
> Hopefully you guys enjoy! This was written a little sloppily since I've been ill for the past few days (and, like all of my writing, not beta read), so please feel free to speak up if you notice any painful mistakes.  
> As always, thank you so much for reading and for all of your kudos and comments - I promise that even if I don't reply they motivate me to write more than anything and I lovelovelove seeing your feedback and emotions even if they're unintelligible keyboard smashes. So, hey, thanks for reading - please leave comments!


	4. half a world away at times like these

Leia awoke later than she usually would have, the long-dead echoes of a child’s laughter ringing in her ears.  For a brief moment, floating above consciousness, she was happy.  She felt her husband beside her and heard her son’s clumsy footsteps running about in his bedroom as he giggled and growled his way through a perilous battle.  When she opened her eyes, the bed beside her was cold and the house deadly silent, as it had been for the past ten years.

She rose slowly, exhaustion still clinging to her, but shook out her limbs and set about changing the moment she caught sight of her chrono.  No one would mind if she was late, but it was nice to delude herself with some sense of urgency to her actions - some sense of purpose to her existence.  Despite the glory of her title, she was almost irrelevant without the presence of war, and sometimes spent her time wishing the Resistance member were just a  _ little  _ bit more incompetent.

The journey to the base felt longer than it usually did despite her increased pace.  The sky above her was grey and the air sharp with the smell of impending rain, and she tried to ignore the stabbing memories of Ben running about in the downpour.  It had rained the day of his disappearance, too, but not the avalanche of endless warm water that he used to love.  It had been a drizzle, cold and everlasting, and as the same rain began to fall from the sky Leia wondered if the galaxy was mocking her.  She walked faster and almost threw herself through the doors, pausing for a moment to try and compose herself.

When she turned the corner, Poe Dameron was waiting for her.  He looked up and smiled as she approached, but it was subdued compared to his usual radiation of joy.  Poe had been Ben’s best and only friend, and sometimes it felt as if his grief met the magnitude of hers.

“It’s his birthday soon,” he said gently, “Nineteenth.”

There had been something akin to a shrine built outside of the cafeteria; a pile of flower bunches (many hurriedly picked from outside between drills and missions), and a scattering of sweets or toys.  Leia stared at it as they approached the cafeteria to get breakfast.

“He’s an adult,” she said quietly, looking at the plush toys and crude airship models in colourful plastic, “Not a dead child.”

Poe looked at her and smiled sadly.  “I think he’d like them anyway.”

They approached the end of the line for the various breakfast foods being served, though Leia suspected Poe had already eaten.  He was far too polite to allow her to eat alone, though sometimes she suspected that he stood by her as a matter of courtesy.  A replacement for Ben.

“Your mission is today, isn’t it?”

He nodded.  “Most important mission I’ve been sent on yet, I’m excited.  I’m going to eat quickly, then I’ll have to run and change.”

Leia nodded as they reached the displays of food, retrieving a small plate and filling it with fruit.  Poe grabbed a considerably less healthy sweet bar.

“Are you sure that’s a nutritional choice?” Leia teased, smiling as the man looked suddenly embarrassed.

“It’s fruit- _ flavoured _ , at least.”

Leia urged a pale green-skinned fruit from her plate into the pilot’s hand and made her way to sit down.  “You’ll need lots of energy if you plan on getting to Taunul.”

  
  


Hux awoke from the first decent sleep he’d had in several weeks to the sound of his chrono beeping angrily at him from across the room, and of a figure scrambling desperately out of the bed.  It took a long moment for him to understand what was happening beyond the concepts of  _ noise _ and  _ person _ , but eventually his mind supplied him with  _ alarm  _ and  _ Kylo _ .  He rose from the sofa and made his way briskly across the room, pressing a button on the chrono and plunging the room back into blessed silence.  Kylo looked terrified, and Hux’s brows furrowed.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, concerned, “Did you--”

He suddenly noticed the boy staring in horror at the chrono, as if it was about to attack him.  Of course he’d never seen one before.

“I should’ve turned that off last night,” Hux apologized hastily, heedless of the fact that he would never be able to wake up without it, “Or at least warned you.  It’s harmless, it’s just a chrono.  It tells the time.”

It was currently displaying the time 04:06, and Hux tried not to be distressed by the fact that he was clearly going to be late to his shift.  He had an hour to get ready, as well as to figure out what exactly he was going to do with Kylo while he was working.  He cursed under his breath, before making his way to his wardrobe and drawing out his shirt and jacket, then pulling his unworn boots and trousers from the box.  “I’ll just take a shower, alright? You can go back to sleep, if you want.”

Hux showered in record time and yanked his shirt on the moment he stepped out.  He struggled into his trousers, then took a moment to assess himself in his ‘fresher mirror.  He looked a mess, face darkened with stress and hair sticking out in awful, untidy curls.  He grabbed his hair gel (bought off-planet, and far higher quality than anything regulation) and struggled to slick it all back, eventually dragging himself away from the mirror with the knowledge that he was already late.  He emerged to find Kylo stood exactly where he had been when Hux left him.  

“I have to return to work,” Hux explained, somewhat obviously, “So I’m afraid I’ll have to leave you here.  We could perhaps arrange a better system, or find you something to do in the future, but as I’m already running late you’ll be alone for today.”

“It’s my purpose to be left until I’m required, sir,” Kylo responded simply.  Hux shook his head.  “Never mind that.  Um, I have books, and paper in the unlocked drawers of my desk.  You can use anything, alright? I’ll be back to check on you at eleven.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Hux rushed from the room once he was sure Kylo would be alright and made his way briskly towards the bridge.  The staff there spared him a glance once he arrived, several nodding respectfully, before returning to their jobs assigning troops and relaying information amongst the staff.  Hux approached a young woman at the end of a row, and requested she explain their current status.

“Construction of  _ Starkiller  _ is progressing rapidly, sir,” she said quickly, as if he would be unaware, “As for the search for Skywalker, there are troops being deployed in an hour to Taunul.  According to our sources, there may be valuable information held there by one Lor San Tekka.”

Hux nodded curtly.  “Thank you.”

He turned briskly and made his way across the bridge to his own workstation, trying to get back into the role of General as his mind buzzed with concern for Kylo.  He knew next to nothing about the boy, nor why exactly the Supreme Leader had deemed it necessary for Hux to own a slave.  Especially one so young.

“General?” an officer managed to stammer out, interrupting his thoughts.  He looked up and tried to cast away any and all emotions, schooling his face into a glower.

“What is it?”

“The mission to Taunul will be deploying in ten minutes, if you wish to survey.”

The woman turned and left promptly, head lowered in respect as she made her way towards the hangar.  Hux followed her at a distance, the clicks of his footsteps beginning to echo as he drew further away from the noise of the bridge.  The officer ahead of him disappeared amidst the twists and turns of the maze-like hallways and Hux was left alone in the near-darkness of the lower levels, where even the Stormtroopers rarely patrolled.  The hallways grew louder as he approached the hangar, the space filling with engines, rushing footsteps and shouting voices all overlapping each other.  Hux cringed at the noise; he often tried to avoid the hangar for this precise reason, but the mission that was due to depart was a significant one and as General is was his duty to supervise.  

The hangar was crowded with officers, technicians, and troops alike as Hux entered, but he immediately managed to scope out the Stormtrooper Captain he had conversed with on the day of his promotion.  He approached her briskly, and she turned her attention respectfully away from the Troopers she was addressing.

“Captain,” he acknowledged, though paused in a somewhat embarrassed admittance that he did not know her name.

“Phasma,” she replied politely, before continuing, “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“I am here to supervise the deployment of the mission,” Hux explained.  Phasma nodded.

“We will be leaving in six minutes,” she said, voice holding the cold indifference of a soldier, “We plan to storm Taunul until we locate Lor San Tekka.  He is to be interrogated for whatever information he holds on the location of Skywalker.”

Or, in other words, there would be another massacre on the Order’s hands.  How wonderful.  Hux nodded respectfully at her nonetheless, and she returned to ordering the troops onto the ships that would take them to Taunul.  Each Trooper turned and walked confidently, blasters held proudly, and Hux watched each of them as they got into position.  However, one Trooper did not move.  They remained stood where they were, gaze trained on Hux, and the man felt uneasiness building in his gut.

“FN-2187!” Phasma barked suddenly, and Hux barely managed not to flinch as the Trooper’s head snapped towards her.  They rushed aboard the ship clumsily, turning back for a brief moment to cast one more glance at Hux.

Hux stood and stared as the engine roared to life and the ship began to rise steadily, taking with it a hundred men and women who would soon be murderers.  

 

Kylo’s eyes blinked open slowly, vision blurry at his sudden awakening.  He struggled to focus on the floor against his cheek.  It was cold and hard, some sort of marble or something similar, and he was positive he could feel vibrations traveling through it despite the fact that there were none.  Perhaps he was shaking, he was certainly cold.  Wherever he had been brought was a far cry from the brutal deserts of his former home, but at least the floors here had no sharp stones or sand to dig into his skin or get into his grazes and cuts.

He rose slowly, knees almost buckling from the exertion of pulling his weight up.  He was malnourished, he knew, but surely it was something he should have been used to after so long.  To complain, albeit inwardly, was frankly pathetic.  The new owner had even fed him, though his stomach was already turning in a painful confusion of starvation and sickness despite his many attempts to calm it.  His new owner  _ had  _ assured him that he wouldn’t mind if he was sick, but Kylo had learnt not to trust any kindness.  Especially coming from anyone like the man he was now in possession of.

Truly, the man seemed nice enough, and he had yet to hit Kylo or hold him down onto the bed by the back of his neck like the slavers and any of his previous brief owners had done.  But it was only a matter of time, because that was how niceness always worked - niceness always went away.  You could always make someone hit you no matter how much they swore not to.  And once they hit you, it was very hard to get them to stop.  

Kylo turned where he was stood to look at the display beside the bed that the man had called a ‘chrono’.  He was unfamiliar with such ways of telling the time, he had always mostly relied on the position of the sun despite the fact that days often differed in length from planet to planet.  However, he knew enough to know that 6:52 was still early in the morning.  He was completely unaware of what time the man would be returning, though he had stated he would return to ‘check on’ Kylo at eleven.  The room was immaculate and there was still readily prepared food from last night in the kitchen; there were no visible tasks to complete and he found himself distressed by this fact.  Kylo knew the man would surely be angry when he returned, but he still felt sick and the room was blurring at the edges as exhaustion and hunger set in.  

He lowered himself carefully to the floor again and curled tightly into the fetal position to try and retain any warmth, though there was seemingly none within the dark room.  Wherever he was, the entire place set him on edge.  The air felt thick with something dark, something terrible.  

  
After an hour of listening to the familiar sound of his own shaky breathing, he passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long! I've honestly been trying to write this for a month, and it just wasn't happening. I still think this chapter is suuuuuper clumsy, but at least it's here!  
> As usual, a huge thank you to everyone that's left kudos and comments! Re-reading old comments motivates me to write more than anything (even if it takes me a month, oops - thank you for being patient!), and I get super-duper excited when I see new ones. So, hey, tell me what you think!  
> Thank you for reading!!


	5. it looks like i won't be around

Hux managed to escape the bridge by twelve o’clock, an hour after he had promised Kylo he would be back, though he could not find it in himself to feel all that guilty.  Every department not still focusing on construction was set on the recently dispatched mission to Taunul, ensuring that everything ran smoothly and the villagers would be  _ dealt with  _ swiftly, and thus the bridge was filled with an even more prominent air of tension.  It was always difficult to plan a massacre.  The only reason the mission was taking place at all was the rumour that Tekka held information about the elusive Skywalker, and Hux did not like dispatching troops on the trail of rumours despite Snoke’s orders.  He felt exhausted as he made his way back to his quarters - a luxury he often skipped out on in favour of not leaving the bridge for even a moment.  The closer  _ Starkiller  _ was to completion, the more danger they were in until they reached completion.  Then, the First Order would be unstoppable.

 

The doors to Hux’s quarters let out two, high-pitched beeps before opening swiftly to allow him entry.  As the doors shut derisively behind him, the first thing Hux noticed was the fact that the bed was empty.  He was confused immediately, as there was no indication that Kylo was in the refresher or the kitchen alcove and his desk lay exactly as it had been left several nights ago.  The only remaining place he could possibly be was the spare room, but Hux saw no reason for Kylo to spend any time at all in the empty room.  Perhaps such settings allowed him to feel safer? It would make sense, for him to prefer a closed room to the open-plan setting of Hux’s living space, especially as he had no control over the door or any possible surveillance.  Hux stepped around the bed and approached the door to the empty room, but promptly froze.

 

Kylo was curled into a ball on the cold floor, seemingly asleep.  Hux clicked his tongue in displeasure; he momentarily considered lifting Kylo into the bed, but he didn’t have all that much faith in his own strength, and was unsure how the boy would react to being touched on the off-chance that he awoke.  Instead, Hux crouched beside him in a highly undignified manner and tried not to flinch when his knees clicked.  His training regimen didn’t exactly cover squats.  Reaching out, he shook Kylo’s shoulder gently, trying to ignore the fact that he could feel each bone underneath his fingertips.  When Kylo did not awaken, he shook him again with slightly more force and was rewarded with the boy’s eyes blinking open slowly.  For a single moment, he was unguarded, staring up at Hux with something between confusion and indifference before consciousness washed over him like icy water and he sat up so quickly that Hux almost felt dizzy.

 

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” Kylo said in a rush, something close to fear alight in his eyes that Hux had never been so close to.

“It’s alright,” Hux replied evenly, shuffling away in an attempt to grant Kylo a sense of security, “There isn’t much else to do.  How are you feeling?”

Kylo hesitated momentarily, debating honesty, before training his gaze at Hux’s knees.  “I felt sick earlier, but I feel better now.  Thank you.  How was work, sir?”

Hux was sure that Kylo has no concept of who Hux was, nor even  _ where  _ he was, but he still felt uneasy saying anything about his career to Kylo.  Hux knew Kylo was not innocent, but he was a victim and he was young and he  _ should be _ .  

“No different than normal,” Hux replied in lieu of a legitimate answer, mind still focused on who Kylo had been before.  Where had he come from? Had he been born in captivity, given up at birth? Would he fear Hux, or believe what he was doing was right? 

 

After a long silence, Hux found a moment of clarity.

“Oh! I haven’t talked to any of the tailors yet, but I could see if I can find you a change of clothes,” he offered, rising and walking to his wardrobe.  The contents were no different from the last time he had trawled through it, but he could supply Kylo with a new pair of briefs at the very least.  He drew another black pair from his drawers and held them out until Kylo realized that it was a cue for him to collect them.  He did so in a rush, almost tripping over himself, then remained standing awkwardly behind Hux as the man resumed his search through his wardrobe.  His search rewarded him eventually with another pair of jogging bottoms - also black, with the Order insignia embroidered on a patch at the hip in red and white.  With a moment’s hesitation, he tore the patch off.  A hexagon of small tears from the thread that had attached the patch remained on the fabric, the only remainder of an action severe enough to have branded him a traitor were he of lesser importance.  Hux handed over the jogging bottoms and ignored the weight of what he had done, continuing his search until he came across another plain tee-shirt.  Kylo took it meekly from his hands and locked himself in the ‘fresher to change, an action that Hux was surprised at.  For a moment, he doubted that Kylo had truly been intended for the purpose he had initially thought, but then he remembered the former night.  Hux had locked himself in the refresher in order to change.  Kylo was obviously a fast enough learner to now know that as a boundary.

 

The boy emerged from the refresher quickly, and dressed fully he almost looked like a normal teenager.  The bandage on his thigh was covered, as well as the other scars and bruises littering his legs, and if he could ignore the marks covering his skinny arms Hux could almost imagine him in some normal family far away.  But that still didn’t change the fact that Kylo was there, aboard  _ Starkiller _ , stood in front of Hux while his ‘normal family’ remained light years away with the knowledge that their son, brother, nephew, friend, was gone.

 

“May I ask you a question?” Hux asked suddenly, after a long pause.  Kylo glanced up and met his eyes, then quickly looked away.

“Of course.  But I can’t promise I’ll be able to answer, depending.”

Hux hesitated again.  “How old are you?”

Kylo paused for a long moment, brows furrowing.  “...Nine..teen?” he eventually managed, though it sounded more like a guess than anything.  He looked fairly young for nineteen, though Hux supposed that it was only to be expected after years of captivity and starvation.  

“Have you always been a slave?”

“I...think so.  I don’t remember anything different.”

Hux did not know much about the slave market, despite being so close to it during his childhood.  He  _ had  _ been warned many times as a child of the slavers that took to kidnapping victims to ‘train’ and sell, and had thus scarcely been allowed outside without strict supervision - not that he had dreamt of frolicking in grassy meadows or anything.  He had despised the control nonetheless, but suddenly found himself thankful for it.  His mind conjured images of Kylo as a child, being dragged screaming from a place just outside of his parents’ vision.  Extreme trauma could lead to memories being repressed.  Had Kylo merely forced himself to forget?

“No matter what, you did have a life before being a slave.  Whether it was minutes or years.  Would you ever want to go back to it?”

That question was far more hard-hitting than the one preceding it, but the answer Kylo gave was mechanical.

“No, sir.”

Of course, Hux thought.  He probably thought the question was some sort of test of loyalty.  Rather than trying to assure the boy otherwise, Hux allowed the silence to remain.  He had enough data at his fingertips to perhaps try and locate Kylo’s parents or at least home planet, but tracking was difficult enough work without trying to pinpoint the origin of a mononymous amnesiac.  He’d need a surname before he could even start looking, not to mention the fact that Kylo was almost definitely not the boy’s birth name.

 

Hux looked up again, intent on asking another question, but let the words die in his throat at Kylo’s expression.  His brows were pinched together and eyes glassy, as if his mind had been pulled suddenly far away.

 

Kylo felt anxiety flood his veins.  The underlying sense of dread that had plagued him since he had first awoken felt like it was reaching a crescendo, suddenly so loud that it was clouding his mind.  His worry, now bordering on panic, continued to grow somehow stronger, increasing and clutching at his heart until suddenly--

 

Hux’s commlink beeped.  Kylo snapped suddenly back to reality and stared at him, eyes wide, as he drew it out and answered the incoming call.

“General,” an officer from the Bridge greeted shortly, “The Taunul mission has returned.  Your presence is required on the lower decks.”

Hux knew exactly what that meant, and could only be thankful that the officer was smart enough to not say it directly, if only for Kylo’s sake.    

“I will make my way there immediately.”

Hux shut off the commlink and looked back to Kylo, who was staring at him with an unreadable expression.  

“I need to return to work.”

Kylo, never once taking his eyes off of Hux, nodded slowly.

“Alright.”

The almost casual answer sounded strange on the boy’s tongue, but Hux shrugged it off.  He rose quickly and, without glancing backwards, left the room once again.

 

Kylo stared after him, a burst of anger that surely did not belong to him blooming in his chest.  The door shut behind the man (Kylo wondered vaguely if he’d ever learn his actual name, not that he deserved it) with an air of finality, effectively trapping him inside his newest ‘prison’.  The foreign determination inside of him found him almost upset by this fact for the first time.  Half of him still felt grateful; grateful that there were no sharp rocks under his knees or sand littering the ground, but he still found himself staring at the door.  He had watched Hux exit through it enough to know that there were no security measures to  _ leaving  _ the room.  Merely a button to press and then, from what he had caught glimpses of, a long, dark hallway to navigate.  

 

Feeling suddenly completely unlike himself, and somehow more  _ himself  _ than he’d ever been, Kylo stood up and made his way nervously to the door that separated him from (what he could only assume was) relative freedom.  There was a panel of numbers beside the door, one to nine then zero, and underneath that there were two buttons.  The one on the left displayed two arrows pointing away from each other, the one on the right two arrows facing each other.  While the wild contraption of a door certainly intimidated the boy, he was at least smart enough to discern the symbol for ‘open’, and with a long moment of hesitation, pressed the button.  The door opened unceremoniously with a woosh of air, and Kylo was left stood before a long hallway adjacent to the door.  It was scarcely lit and lead to both the left and right before veering off in unseen directions to unknown locations.

 

Sense seemed to find Kylo suddenly and he stepped back, anxiety thrumming through his veins as he was presented with something he had only just realized he desired.  Freedom.  A more primal part of him (seemingly spurred on by the still present and foreign anger in the back of his mind) begged him to run, but the rest of him (the part that remembered who he was,  _ what  _ he was) still held onto rationality.  If he was caught, he could well be killed for such an act of insane disobedience.   _ A win-win situation, then _ , a far less helpful part of his mind supplied.   _ Either outcome equals freedom. _

  
After one more long moment of hesitation, anxiousness opening to nausea, Kylo stepped out into the hallway.  The door shut behind him with an air of finality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long! Things have been a little wild since I last updated - many things (including, but not limited to, the end of the school year, my birthday, seven days out of the country, and now the inevitable end-of-summer depression) have managed the pretty easy task of distracting me.  
> I'd like to take this chance to thank you all for being so patient - especially since the last chapter was late, too! I know I suck at responding to comments, but I appreciate them all (especially the very enthusiastic ones, they always make me grin like an idiot) and I've been rereading all of the old ones over and over again to motivate myself!  
> Thank you so much to everyone who's stuck around, even with my terrible time management and non-existent update schedule. Next chapter, shit's going down! (Well, sort of...)  
> Please let me know what you think!


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